Birds of a Feather Should Not Always Flock Together
by Elohim.Aelf
Summary: When the second trial leaves Sammy down for the count and Dean chomping at the bit to get out and hunt, Garth sets Dean up with a temporary partner, Alex, who is quite new to the whole hunting thing. But when the case taken an interesting turn, will the new hunter be able to handle it? Or more importantly, will Dean be able to handle him?
1. Chapter 1

Sam dozed fitfully in the passenger seat, every once in a while moaning and shifting his weight as if he was trying to escape some invisible tormentor. Dean glanced over at his little brother, worry lines creasing his forehead. They had just finished a fairly simple wendigo hunt in Minnesota and were on their way back to their bunker and Sam had slept most of the way, waking up only to nibble at a salad and take the occasional sip of water. Ever since he had completed the second trial, he was getting worse; Dean had to save his ass more than once on the wendigo case.

"God dammit Sammy, I can't afford to have you falling apart on me now!" Dean's mumblings were filled with more concern and fear than anger; he just wanted his brother to not feel so miserable all the time. As he turned his eyes back to the road, Sam jolted awake with a choked gasp and started to cough like a smoker with stage 4 lung cancer. His older brother quickly pulled over on the lonely stretch of highway and hurried over to the passenger side door with a wad of napkins and water bottle.

Sam was curled in on himself, coughing violently, his lanky frame wracked with each cough. Dean just stared in hopeless desperation as he pulled his little brother into his arms helplessly, unable to do anything but watch with wide, worried emerald eyes. As Sam's coughs died down into weak wheezes and he shakily pulled in a semi-normal breath, Dean let go of him and gently wiped his now blood stained lips and chin. Sam, exhausted and with tears of pain streaming down his cheeks, let his body fall back into his older brother's comforting arms.

Dean, taken aback by the unexpected reaction from his younger brother, who would normally have shoved him off and refuse to be treated so delicately, wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back like he used to do when Sammy was a scared little kid who woke up scared from nightmares. Each of Sam's breaths were more whimpers than actual inhales and Dean fought back tears as he cradled his broken brother, unable to help.

"I'm okay now Dean," Sam whispered after another minute, his voice quiet and hoarse, "we need to get back. I'm okay." Dean nodded, leaned his semi-conscious brother back into the seat and after forcing him to drink some water, climbed back behind the wheel and drove off, sending up a prayer to whoever was listening to keep his Sammy safe.

Trying to lighten the mood, Dean remarked, "Hey I can put on some Bon Jovi if it will make you feel better. I'll deal if you want me to." He threw a cheeky grin at Sam who chuckled softly. "Naw thanks Dean, I wouldn't do that to you. Imma just take a nap okay? Wake me when we get there." They shared a brotherly smile then Sam turned back to the window and Dean faced the road, both trying to forget what had just happened and trying to push away how serious things had really gotten.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPSPNSPSPSN

A few days after the wendigo hunt, Sam was no better and Dean was chomping at the bit to get back out and hunt something else. He was torn between wanting to stay at the lair and try to get Sammy better and go out there by himself and just release some anger and save some lives in the process. Sam had taken to sleeping for twelve hours straight and Dean was left to catalog the various weapons and archives, which pushed him a hair away from banging his head against the wall repeatedly. Dean had scoured the newspapers nearby and had found nothing out of sorts, so he was simply on standby, stuck doing a boring job that was normally Sam's.

The Wednesday the week after, Dean had gotten a call from Garth, who had gotten reports of a possible shape shifter case a couple towns over. Apparently people who had been missing for years had suddenly been caught at the scene of gruesome murders recently and had vanished without a trace after they had killed their victims. Garth knew about Sam's current condition and had assigned another hunter to work with Dean in his place; they were to meet at a local motel the next evening.

As soon as he hung up the phone, Dean whooped in joy and ran to pack up his things. He passed Sam's room and peeked in on him; he was asleep and most likely would be for a few more hours, so Dean wrote a long note explaining the situation and set it on the night stand. Dean swung his bag over his shoulder, loaded his gun with silver bullets and headed out to the Impala with an eager smile on his face, ready to jump back in the saddle after a week and a half off having to take care of Sammy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alex Donovan was not your average hunter, he was a rookie, only two years into the business, and the emotional scars that spurred him to start were still raw. His fingers were restless on the steering wheel of his '69 cherry red Shelby Mustang and he blasted Led Zeppelin on the radio. Being new, Alex had heard of the Winchester brothers, but he had never met them, and was excited to be working with Dean.

Pulling into the tiny town of Clay Center, Kansas, Alex's veins pumped with adrenaline; this was his first shifter case and to be partnered with the eldest Winchester got his heart pumping. He found his way to the motel that Garth had told him Dean would be at and walked up to the front desk.

"Um, did a Dean Winchester check in?" the rookie asked. The receptionist, a sour looking elderly woman, didn't even look up from her computer screen and just thrust a room key at Alex, "The pretty boy told me you would be coming. He is in room 213, second floor." Alex hesitantly took the key from the woman's grip and walked away briskly, a bit irritated by her grumpiness.

Dean looked up from his seat at the motel room desk as the door opened and revealed his new partner. The man was in his mid-twenties; around six foot two and wiry with raven black hair and steely blue eyes. His perfect pale complexion was disrupted only by a smattering of freckles over his sharp, long nose. Alex took in the man on the other side of the room who seemed to be the complete opposite of him, with wheat blond hair, tanned skin, emerald eyes and a stocky, muscular build.

"I'm guessing you're Dean?" Alex asked coolly, tossing his duffel bag on the twin bed nearest the door before heading over to shake Dean's outstretched hand.

"The one and only." Dean responded in a similar tone and was surprised at the strong grip that came from the man who was built like a male ballerina.

Alex smiled and moved over to the desk Dean had been working at, taking in all the research, articles and victim profiles strewn haphazardly over the desktop. "So it's definitely vamps huh?" he asked curiously, shifting papers.

"Yup," Dean moved over next to him, "Same MO, throats either torn out or bite marks on the bodies, all completely drained of blood. But this case seems weird to me, this town has been vamp free for quite a while now. But, there were similar killings back in the nineties."

"Huh, are there any records of hunters that came and killed them all off back then? I mean, do hunters even keep records?"

"Yeah, Bobby used to keep them, but Garth has all of it now. I'm sure he would have mentioned that hunters were here before if he sent us, but he didn't. Why would vampires just up and leave, then come back twenty years later? I mean, yeah, nests migrate, but after leaving a bloody record behind in such a small town, they wouldn't return." Dean walked over to his bed and hefted his bag over his shoulder, "We are gonna need to do some investigating."

Alex nodded and followed suit, throwing his duffel over his shoulder and following Dean out of the room. As they crossed the lobby, the woman at the counter looked up and followed them with her eyes, not out of curiosity but boredom, and as the men walked out, her lazy gaze drifted back to her desktop.

Both Alex and Dean simultaneously whistled in awe as they lay eyes on the other's car.

"Dude, nice 'Stang! '69 Shelby, right?" An approving smile crept across Dean's face as he ran his fingertips longingly over the red hood.

Alex nodded then turned to the Impala with an equally radiant smile, "Yeah! And Damn! This is a sexy ass car, if you don't take that the wrong way." He added a sarcastic wink with the last statement and Dean chuckled.

"Well if you don't mind, we'll take the Impala then. " Dean climbed into the familiar seat and rubbed his hands lovingly on the steering wheel. Alex smiled and got in the passenger seat; his smile grew even larger as Dean turned on the car and Metallica blasted through the speakers. Dean quickly turned off the music, but Alex reached over and turned it right back on as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Dean looked over at his new hunting buddy and just said, "Hell, you're not the pain in the ass I thought you would be, kid."

Alex replied, "And you're not as stuffy as I thought you were going to be when I heard you were raised hunting, old man."

"Hey, maybe this hunt will turn out to be fun after all," Dean said with a small smirk, "Even if Sammy isn't here."

Alex caught the small bit of sadness that accompanied the last phrase and looked over, "Your little brother? What's wrong with him? Injured on the job?"

Dean shrugged, "Yeah I guess you could call it that."

"You wanna tell me about it, since we are gonna be working together for the next couple days?" Alex prodded, then added "Only if you feel comfortable," after he saw Dean's suspicious sideways glance.

Dean contemplated it for a moment, "Aw, what the hell, we will probably be working with each other sometime down the line again so why not?"


End file.
